Blindsided
by DiannaSlaven10
Summary: Rachel is famous and needs publicity. You know what they say, bad publicity is better than no publicity, so what will Rachel do to get what she needs? What happens when her needs change? AU Faberry. Rated M for language and future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh my goodness! Levi thank you so much...these are wonderful," I gushed as my boyfriend handed me a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, it's pretty much a given. That performance was off the charts," Levi smiled and pecked me on the cheek.

I smiled. He always knew what to say to make me happy. "C'mon. Let's go back to my place. I can put these in water... and you can stay the night if you want." I turned back around into my dressing room and gave him a wink before closing the door behind me. I just had to gather a few things before I left. My purse, the flowers, my cell phone, all set.

I closed the door behind me and looked up at Levi. "You ready?" He asked with a sly grin. I smiled and grabbed his hand. We got into the limousine that was waiting for me outside the stage door.

The ride back was quick, the stage only being a few minutes away from my cozy apartment. As we walked up the stairs hastily, ready to get down to the business that was awaiting us behind closed doors, we were interrupted.

"Ahem."

_Ugh_. My publicist was always popping up at the most _inconvenient_ of times.

"Jackie, what do you want? I'm kind of not in the mood for what you have to say. Levi and I were going to do_ stuff_," I say exasperatedly.

"Whatever, munchkin," _god_ that nickname never wore off, "blondie, can you give us some space?" my publicist asked not very kindly, if I do say so myself.

Levi just awkwardly blew up his cheeks with air and let out the deep breath while walking back down the stairs to the lobby.

I turned back to Jackie, "Okay, what is _so_ important that you had to interrupt my night?"

"Oh, _please_, like he's any good anyway. But whatever, I have a bomb to drop on you."

I look at her with a bored expression. "Really."

"Yea. You need to dump Levi." She just says that like it's the most common thing to say, like breaking up with your boyfriend of four months is 'business as usual'.

"Wait... What?" I blink my eyes rapidly and check her expression to make sure if she's just playing me or not. "Why?"

She pulls out a briefcase filled with what looks like People magazines, and gestures towards the door for me to open it. When I do, she lays about six issues on the kitchen counter. I'm looking at the magazines in confusion and peer up at Jackie, who is looking at me with expectant eyes. I have no idea what she's trying to get across here. "Okay, what is all this?" I ask, confused.

"Tell me munchkin," she clicks her tongue, "what do you see in these magazines?"

I sift through the contents and the front covers of the issues but see nothing out of the ordinary. Oh! Two of them have an article about Katy Perry and John Mayer's break up. "Just the usual celebrity gossip, is there a problem?"

"Yes, _Rachel_, there's a big problem._ You_ aren't in _any_ of them. You haven't been for the last_ six_ weeks._ That_ is why you need to dump Mr. Model downstairs, because you guys have got to be the most_ boring_ celebrity couple ever."

_What!_ "What! Not only is your accusation _wrong_ but why do we have to break up? We're happy! You can't do this," I swear I'm still doing that thing where I blink too much and I'm opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. I'm just- _ugh!_ I'm furious and depressed all at the same time, because not only am I blindsided, but I know I'll have to do it anyway. Because that damned lady is not gonna give in.

For once, she actually looks down at the floor with a look that appears like sympathy and says, "Listen. I know you're happy, and all that shit. But God so help me, it's my job so please just cooperate. I'm sorry, but he's got to go if you want to be the talk of the town again."

I let out a deep breath. She's right, it's all I've ever wanted. Although I'm happy- was happy- it might not be worth giving up all my dreams.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yea."

"So you'll dump him?"

"We'll not _dump_ him. I'll just get it over with and let him down easy. Stay here, I'll be right back in a few minutes," I say with no emotion as I start to walk back down the stairs to my ex-boyfriend.

"Hey, what was that all about? Is everything fine? You look upset," Levi rushes out as he gets up from the couch in the lobby and walks over to me. It makes me so sad, he's such a caring guy, maybe not the smartest, but a good guy. He doesn't deserve this. He deserves something better than the show-biz girl.

I try and just rip off the band aid as fast as possible, in the nicest way possible. If that's even possible. "...There's no easy way for me to say this," he's looking at me with glassy eyes, like he knows what I'm about to say.

"I really can't say that I saw this coming. Can I ask why?"

"I can't say. But just know that I really do care for you, and I never wanted to hurt you," There's a small tear making it's way down the contour of my cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb. "You're a really good guy, Lee."

"What did she say to you? You can fire her you know, she isn't the boss of you," he pleads, but I know I have to make this clean.

"She didn't say anything," I lie. "But this is over. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude but can you go? This isn't easy for me either."

"I don't get it. But _fine_, I'll get out of your hair," he says with an angry tone and tries to slam the door of the apartment building behind him, but it just softly closes.

I look at his retreating figure with sadness, and walk back up the stairs. The elevator is under repair. The door is still open when I get to apartment 3F. When I plop back on the couch, Jackie walks over with two glasses of wine.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Isn't it nice to finally be able to do this legally?"

"I guess," I mumble. I turned 21 about a week ago, but the excitement has worn off, for obvious reasons.

"I'm sorry munchkin. It's my job. And you know I never actually say sorry unless I mean it. So no hard feelings?" She pulls me in I rest my head on her chest.

"No, I suppose not. I'm just a little shocked is all," I glanced at the clock on my cable box, "we went from being a happy couple to broken up in less than an hour."

"Did you love him?" She asks.

I think for a moment. I did- still do- care deeply for him, but I can't say I fell in love with him. "I don't think so. But it still hurts."

She takes a sip of her wine while I take a big gulp. "I know how it feels, munchie. You'll get through it, though."

I take another sip and nod.

"I'll be right back. The whole point in this is to create some press, so I guess I should go alert the media."

The fact that just ten minutes ago I broke up with my boyfriend and the whole world will know about it in less than a day makes me a little angry. But I know the drill. This is how life is. I grab the remote to my stereo and immerse myself in the world of Barbra and wine, to calm down. The sound of footsteps echo down from the hallway.

"Hey, I'd expect a few cameras tomorrow. You might not be that big, but this is new news," Jackie says.

"I understand," I mumble.

The redhead sighs. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

She usually isn't this attentive to my feelings so I decide to take advantage of it. "Can you just talk to me? I need some distractions."

She sits down on the chair across from me and smiles. "I know you're in a bad mood but I have just the thing to distract you," she opens up my laptop sitting on the coffee table and clicks a few buttons. "Here you go."

She flips the computer in my direction and I look at the screen. A smile comes to my lips, it's the fan's reviews from tonight's show. Many of them are about me, and almost none are negative. It's things like these that make me happy, unconditionally.

_Rachel's voice is like angels! Wonderful show, definitely worth it. -brdwybb2_

_Berry stole the show, the cast wuz great, but Rachel was fanTAStic. I'll most def be in the audience again soon. She was also great in The Giver. I'm her #1 fan! -rblove12_

That one made me smile. The fans always make me the happiest person ever. It was also nice to hear about The Giver. It was my first and only movie I've ever starred in, and that was back in 2014, two years ago. I played Fiona, and was incredibly odd, how I looked with red hair. That was around the time I had the most press, with Giver and Spring Awakening. I played the lead in that production. Right now, it's obviously I'm in a rut with publicity. I'm only in Wicked as Elphaba at the moment, and Broadway has never gotten much press. That's also why I just had to break up with Levi...

_Break up with Levi..._

Tears prickle at my eyes again and I close the laptop in front of me.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jackie asks, confused. "The reviews are great!"

I sniffle, "It's not the reviews, it's Levi."

"Oh god, do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure, whatever."

Jackie puts in Funny Girl, which makes me laugh. I must have seen this movie a thousand times but I still love it to death.

"I promise it'll get better. If it doesn't, I'll make it happen," Jackie says with a rare sense of compassion.

"Hope so. How're you gonna make that happen?" I ask with a small smile.

"I have my ways."

"Okay, Jack," I laugh. "You keep saying that."


	2. Chapter 2

**Howdy! Ok so you may know me from Connects Us and OTNT, and thats great. I discontinued OTNT because I hated it, and put off CU because i seem to have forgotten the plot. I should continue once i figure it out. Luckily for you i made a plot track for this story so writers block shouldnt be a problem. **

**This story has been in my head for a few days and i had to get it on here because it just seems like a fun and exciting story. I always accept reviews welcomely, good or bad, so feel free to share your thoughts. I dont own anything.**

**R&R- V :)**

When I wake up I notice the streaks of black all over my pillow. Then I feel that that familiar feeling of discomfort that comes with sleeping in your clothes. _What the heck._

Of course, when I flip the covers over, my clothes from the day before are still on my body. Then I wonder, _how did I get here?_

The last person I saw last night was Jackie, so she must know. I send her a quick text asking how I got in my bed. She is shorter than me, which is saying something, and to be honest, not very muscular. Instead of sitting in my bed waiting for her response, I walk to the bathroom to wash the makeup off my face. However, halfway there, I stop in my tracks. In the doorway, there are several little scratch marks and black scuffs on the hardwood floor. Bending over for closer inspection, I realize it's my makeup._ Holy crap did she drag me in here?_

I stomp my foot and storm to the bathroom attached to my bedroom. I really do need to wash this makeup off my face, before_ someone_ spreads it all over my house. My phone buzzes on top of the counter and I angrily unlock it, knowing it's Jackie.

_Haha I totes dragged ur drunk ass in there. It was hysterical. - Jackie_

I scoff at her message. It was most definitely not funny.

_Jackie Monroe, that is heavily on the 'not funny' side. There are scuff marks all over my furniture! Aside from that, how on earth did you get home!? I know for a fact you were also drinking, so I would have offered you to spend the night. - Rachel Berry_

I send the text in satisfaction after checking for any major grammatical errors and go to the kitchen for some breakfast.

_Chill out munchkin. I took a cab home because a) I didn't want to deal w your depressed ass in the morning and b)I had some work to do. - Jackie_

While chewing on my vegan breakfast sandwich, I send another text back asking why she couldn't just do her work here; I have a laptop and my place is just three blocks away from hers.

The food and the texting has distracted me well enough from the giant elephant in the room, but now it's back to haunt me again. Levi. I feel a deep pit of emptiness just thinking about the events that happened within a blink of an eye yesterday. Not in any way do I think that what Jackie made me do was fair; she shouldn't have that kind of control over me. At first I think I was just in shock, but now I'm just mad. First she interrupts my night with my boyfriend to only make me _break up_ with said boyfriend, then she gets me nice and drunk to drag me to my room. And the icing on the cake is that she doesn't seem to have one bit of the compassion that she did yesterday. A rare feeling bubbles up inside me and I bang my fist on the table. _Ouch_. When I'm rubbing my hand, my phone goes off again, I frown and check what it says.

_Y' know how I promised I'd make it better? Well I needed to get away from you do I could deviously plan behind ur back. Don't worry, I don't think you'll be mad. I'll be over in a few to show you. -Jackie_

A sigh escapes my lips. I could never stay mad at Jackie. She always acts like a bitch, which makes me want to just fire her ass, but then she'll own up to her shit and be all nice. And I'll forgive her because I know she means well. Now I'm curious as to what "might not make me mad" in order to make me happy. I don't even have any idea how that makes any sense.

Now that I'm not mad anymore, I just feel sad and slightly guilty. It's about Lee. I feel sad because a four month relationship ended within five minutes, and I woke up to no texts from him. He must still be angry. Then I feel guilty because I didn't even love him. I just strung him along and dumped him when someone told me I had to. Then I feel relieved that I ended it before I could actually fall in love with him, which makes me feel sick for thinking such a thing._ God, I'm such a mess. _

It all started after The Giver. I was getting such a large amount of publicity that it was necessary to hire a manager slash publicist so that I could actually get on with my 's how Jackie came along. Her real name is Jacklyn, but she hates when people call her that because people always think she says 'Marilyn' instead of Jacklyn. She said she got a lot of Marilyn Monroe jokes when she was little, hence her desire to keep other people's images in tip top shape. Things were going great, I was the talk of the town, and I lived the dream life. That is, until I got back into Broadway and people started to forget about me. I still had a lot of fans, I just wasn't in the papers as much anymore. I didn't exactly have a problem with it, but Jackie said that I was going to end up a washed up celebrity if I didn't get back in the game.

That brings me to how Levi Peters came into my life. He's a male model with shaggy blonde hair, mysterious grey eyes, and a perfect smile. Every woman's dream. Jackie set up a date between the two of us, and we really hit it off. I didn't expect to take to the dim man so easily, but he really was charming. Of course, our relationship got me back in the news, around four months ago. I suppose we didn't go _out_ as much as we stayed in, so after a while we were old news again.

I guess that brings me full circle to this exact moment, reminiscing about my previous dream life that turned into a stressful, robotic present. I'm not saying that there are robots everywhere, it's just that it seems like I never actually do what I want anymore, just what other people say I should do. I mean, I love Jackie in my own little way, but sometimes I think she goes a little overboard with the gossip and news. Sure, I absolutely love being in the magazines and hearing about how fans put my picture on their walls, but some down time is nice. Now that down time is over, because the whole world knows about my separation from Lee. Who I still haven't heard anything from.

Whatever. He'll text me soon, hopefully. I don't want to be the first one to get his attention this morning, not after last night.

I get up to wash the dishes I used to make my sandwich, and I feel lonely. I shake the feeling off. I just need to get over this.

There's a knock at my door a few minutes after I'm done completing my chores. The knocking is quick and loud, so I know it's Jack. When I swing the front door open, she's there looking at my phone with her hand still knocking at the air.

"You know you can stop flailing your fist around like a weirdo and come in, if you like."

She looks up from her phone and walks right past me into my living room. I glare at her for her rudeness.

I'm curious about the bulky bag she has, so I ask, "So, what's in the bag?"

She smirks at me before sitting on the leather chair and putting the bag on the coffee table. "Sit," she says.

Squinting, I walk over her legs and sit on the couch next to the chair and sit.

Excitedly, she starts to pull out a clipboard full of notes, my old high school yearbooks, and a notebook. "Uh, whats with the yearbooks, are those mine? Did you take them while I was dru-"

"Shhh, munchkin. I've got the solution to all of your problems. Your lack of a boyfriend, the anger, the publicity, all of it."

I look at her skeptical for a second. "I wouldn't exactly call not having a boyfriend a_ problem_, and didn't me breaking up with him cause enough news? I saw you looking at a TMZ article while you walked through the door. I saw my face, problem solved."

"Not exactly," she sighs, "you're in the article, but it was a statement from Levi _about_ you."

My eyes widen, "What did he say?"

"So apparently due to the abrupt end to your relationship, he thinks there's someone else, and now everyone is wondering, _who could be better than Levi Peters? Who is this mystery person?_

So I've decided to lap up this opportunity and turn it around thew best I can." She opens up my senior yearbook to a dog-eared page, and takes out her notebook. When she sees my confused look, she explains. "So, I've been doing some digging, and yes, I did take this when you were plastered. This sounds a little weird, but you're going to have to date a girl."

"_What!_ Why?"

She completely disregards my objection and continues on with her reasoning. "Since Mr. Model brought up the idea of there being someone else, I tried to find the most fucked up person you would ever think about, which just so happens to be a girl, luckily."

"Luckily? Jack, I'm not gay. I don't have a problem with it at all, I have two dads for crying out loud, but I refuse to be a stereotype. And besides that, who is this girl that is so fucked up? I didn't know anyone _that_ crazy in high school."

I'm seriously flabbergasted!_ Could she be any more crazy?_

It gets even worse. She points to a picture of Quinn Fabray. "You've _got_ to be kidding," I mumble under my breath.

"So, I did my research. This girl, Quinn, used to bully you in high school. Since you guys have graduated, you haven't said a word to each other. Correct?" I nod. I wouldn't talk to Quinn _now_ either. "I looked her up. Apparently, she's living in Manhattan, too. And here's the kicker. _She's gay._ From what I gathered, with her record, I thought she'd be the straightest person on the planet," she starts to rifle through her notes, "teen pregnancy, multiple boyfriends, Christian household. This is _gold. _If you can get Quinn to date you, you'd be the power couple of the _century_."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Jackie, first of all, Quinn _hated_ me. What makes you think that if I knock down her door, asking her out, she won't laugh in my face and be the same old bitch back in high school? Secondly, _I_ don't want to date _her._ She's a monster."

"Girl, you gotta _try_. This bitch is your ticket back to the top. Take it."

"No, Jackie. This is over the line. Bringing my awful past into my equally stressful future is a recipe for disaster. I always do what you say, but this time I'm putting my foot down. The answer is no, think of something else."

"Munchkin, I worked hard on this idea. There literally isn't much else we can do, this idea is perfect. _This idea _will get your name _everywhere_, nobody _won't _be talking about you. For a _long _time. You have to trust me on this."

I start to gather up her belongings back into her giant tote bag. "Still no. I won't do it, and neither would Quinn, if I'd ask."

"You know I'm not going to give up on this idea, right? Just think about it."

I hand her bag over the table and into her hands, "Please, just go. I'm feeling very stressed out right now, and it's only eleven on a Saturday."

She wordlessly turns around and walks straight out the door, closing it softly with a "Just think about it," behind her.

The door clicks shut and I sit down on my couch. I let my body unravel, making the tense feeling in my bones diminish. I really can't do what she asked this time. Bringing the worst part of my past and plopping her right in the middle of the worst part of _now _would be an awful disaster. However, every now and then I _do_ wonder how she's doing. Last thing I heard was that she got into Yale and supposedly paid for tuition herself, since she wouldn't take any money from her father, Russell. Good for her, I suppose it isn't that hard to believe that she'd changed; she lived a hard life in high school. I'd want to rebel, too.

The gay thing surprised me, though. Jackie was right, she's the last person I'd ever expect to come out of the closet.

Finally feeling relaxed, I decide to immerse myself in a strong workout to release the tension, and then watch movies all day. I need it okay? It's been rough, the past twenty-four hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**ok...so its been a year and im so sorry. i really didnt expect that. 2014 has been a kicker to my sanity, class president, i started a new sport at my school, homecoming chairman, and a surprising honor as the Sadie Hawkins Princess. it makes for a whirlwind of a busy life but i must say that it has been hands-down the best year of my life;so i regret nothing besides not keeping up on my writing. the newer glee seasons have done nothing for any kind of inspiration if you know what i mean…**

**so! i am going to TRY and do as much writing as i possibly can considering the responsibilities that i carried into the new year. CHEERS TO THE NEW YEARS! please review, i love them.**

**-V**

August, 2012

Two months really isn't enough for a seventeen year old to adjust to living alone in New York City- alone being the key word. It certainly has been amazing; the city life is right where I belong and it always has something new to offer me every day. However, a large chunk of my experience is lost when there is no one to share it with, in a romantic relationship or a platonic one.

I'm not saying that I expected to get a boyfriend in the two months I've been here. That'd be ridiculous considering how much time that solely moving furniture takes. My fathers shipped all the furniture and bedding that was in my room, plus some coffee tables from Ikea that they couldn't resist spoiling their daughter with.

It was almost embarrassing how pathetic I had looked lugging my queen sized mattress into an elevator the size of a bookshelf. At the same time, I felt a sense of pride. There were a few moments when I was struggling with my larger objects or passing by the groups of people on the sidewalk between the truck and the apartment complex that I felt utterly satisfied at just _being _there that I felt like I could burst with joy. Those moments only lasted about four seconds before I looked back to the moving truck, still about half full.

Once everything was safely in apartment number 3F, with only the small yellowish futon in its correct spot, I felt an overwhelming feeling of confusion. The small living quarters strewn with unpacked boxes made me feel suffocated and lonely. _Only more things to do all by myself._ Almost immediately after that thought I had sprung off the couch and grabbed my keys with no destination in mind.

Just being outside amongst crowds of people on the sidewalk did wonders for my anxious behavior. I remember that day very well, that feeling that no one around you knew who you actually were, it was very present. It made me feel an abundance of emotions; relief that no one had any expectations besides myself, very confused as to what I should be doing next, very lost in a city with a million people in it, and loneliness.

Since I had no idea what to do with these feelings, I walked until they faded away from my sight.

This same routine went on for two months, minus the unpacked boxes (I put those away after about a week.) until now. August. I still went on a long walk every day, but the feelings did go away, contrary to the fear I had of them only getting worse. I'm very content with my life.

Aside from that, my life did take a small turn when I was awakened by a text alert from my dad Hiram. I didn't often get texts, as they were only from my dads and we were all living very different lives now. I had never responded from any texts from my friends; Kurt, Blaine, and Finn had been too difficult to respond to as I had no idea what to possibly say. So I didn't. I'm fine with that. They were all anchors anyway, I can see that now.

I rolled over and grabbed my phone from the bedside table next to me.

_Hey honey vegan-buns! I hope you're having a wonderful week. I know your classes don't start until Sep. 15, and I know there isn't much to do. Maybe you should get a job? Something to occupy your time and help with rent and tuition? Just something to think about. Love you! -The best father ever_

Oh. Ok. I guess it's_ just fine_ that I could be _wasting _precious time put aside for vocal maitenance so I could _work_ for the betterment of society. Fine. That'll give me an adventure today.

I do have one condition to my future occupation. I must sing. It is the only way I will flourish in the public waters of New York.

I forego the option of internet databases to look for a place I could work. During my walks I know every inch of space spanning within five square miles of my apartment. I know the perfect place. I never go inside very often because, hey, I'm a seventeen year old in New York City. I don't have money to blow on food at an overpriced establishment.

Although I've never had a job, I know I should always be dressing for success. In order to achieve success, one must elude an image of it at all times. That's why I refuse to wear the sweaters from high school I still keep in my closet, and slip on one of the more mature outfits I bought here, fitting a completely different persona.

I leave the apartment wearing slim leggings with black pumps and a white camisole and a black leather blazer. It definitely isn't what I feel comfortable in, but I need it to work my audience.

There's this place about a mile and a half from my abode, but I take a cab because of the shoes I'm wearing.

I only make him drive me about three fourths of the way there because I still like to walk and save money. When I finally get there, and by _there_ I mean _The Bar._ This place is actually called The Bar. I found it beautiful in its simplicity. The hostess at the front door introduces herself as Nadia and asks me if I'm here for a table of one.

"No, actually I'm looking for a job. You fine people wouldn't be hiring would you?" I ask with my best show smile I could muster. I like to make every aspect of my life into a greatly schemed acting exercise. Keeps the pipes flowing smoothly.

"Yes, actually we are," she begins as she reaches down in the hostesses podium and pulls out an application. "Just fill this out and bring it back when you're done. It shouldn't take long. And since it's two in the afternoon on a Saturday, we aren't very busy. I bet I can get you a slot with the manager after you're done."

I grab it from her hands and sit down in one of the surrounding waiting chairs to fill out my application.

Any experience? Duh, national champion. Days available? Every day, as long as it's part time. I'm not cut out for a working lifestyle. Any particular position? Obviously, the singing kind. The rest of the information was stupid and asking if I was born in the United States and stuff.

Nadia was gone when I finished, so I just sat there humming to myself until she came from the back, where I assumed the manager's office was.

"All done?" she asked, and I nodded as she gestured for me to hold onto it and follow her. I was brought back to a dingy office that was decorated terribly and was very bland to stand in. It made me feel sad for its occupant, who was sitting in a nice office chair across a wooden desk that was chipping away on the sides. Nadia pulled out a chair for me and left me alone with the good looking guy in the chair. He was older, definitely in his forties, but good looking.

"Hi, my name's Jeffery. I'm glad I already have some takers for a job; I just had to fire someone yesterday. What's your name?" Jeffery asked in a rushed voice with a thick New York accent.

_Fired? That actually happens? _I shook from my stupor to answer the man's question. "Rachel Barbra Berry, sir."

"Alright, Rachel. You mind handin' me that application so I can take a look?" I slip it across his desk and he skims over it quickly, stopping on a few questions. "It says here you're 17?" I nod, and he looks back down to glance at a different question. "When asked what kind of experience you have, you said 'national champion in show choir'. So you can sing?" Again, I nod and slightly smile to appear humble. "...And you also want the...singing position. I'm afraid I can't legally give you that position as you're 17 years old, which means you're a minor and you can't serve alcohol. But as everything on here checks out, and we're short on staff, I can give you the hostess? It only p-"

"Jeffery, sir, as much as much I would _love_ to work here, I simply must sing. I need to in order to live. It's my only condition. A-And, I haven't had a drop of alcohol in my life!" I lie, remembering the alcohol awareness week at McKinley. "I can handle the waitressing position, I can promise you."

I'd like to think it's my amazing acting skills and convincing stare boring into his face that makes him break. But, he says otherwise. "...Okay! you got me, you really did. You got the fire girl. Show me some pipes and you've got me sold."

My smile couldn't be larger as I rack through my mental repertoire looking for the perfect song to sing that would show him that I could be the best damned singing waitress that the world has ever seen.

"I let it fall, my heart, and as it fell, you rose to claim it. It was dark and I wa-"

"Yep! fantastic. It's great. You can start tomorrow. Wear something," he gestures him arms around in a circle wildy, "_spicy._"

My mouth is just hanging open. _ I can't believe he interrupted my song! That's serious talent that he isn't cherishing! _"Sir! Don't you wanna hear the rest of that song? I practiced it for months in my bedroom, I worked very hard on expre-"

"Yea honey I'm sure it was great. You can go now. Congrats, and all that good stuff. I'll make you a nametag and fit you for an actual uniform tomorrow."

He totally blew me off. He hired me, but _god almighty he blew me off! _

Well, he certainly won't be doing that again.

I walk briskly back to the front of the restaurant where Nadia is still at her podium. "Did'ya get it?" she asks while I'm walking.

"Yes," I say while I'm still speed walking at a furious pace towards the door.

"Oh, well, congratulations!" she yells out the door I'm passing through but it closed just in time to cut her off.

It took me a few blocks before I finally cooled down, realizing that the next day I can't just go into my workplace and yell at my new boss about giving a performer their full attention. Oh my god. My new job! I have a job where I get to sing and a boss that seems nice, but oblivious to proper etiquette, and a co-worker named Nadia! It's like a dream come true!

1 month later.

It's official. I hate my job.

No one seems to appreciate the talent I possess. Most of my co-workers despise me for stealing their spotlight. But really, that isn't my fault. I've tried to tell them multiple times that if they would just put in a little practice and vocal lessons from yours truly, maybe they wouldn't suck so bad in comparison to myself. Perhaps maybe I shouldn't have worded that so harshly, but it got the point across.

My ignorant boss, _Jeffery_, continues to only praise me upon my friendly demeanor towards customers instead of my future stardom.

They have me working nights in my ridiculous uniform, which involves a black corset and heels. Both are tremendously uncomfortable. The worst part of the night shift is the people that come in to watch me and my fellow staff members prance around in our little _skin tight, painful, and degrading chains of horror._ They like to leer, which makes me feel cheap; I am most certainly not cheap. Some of it is overshadowed by their tips. Always large and appreciated.

Sometimes, though, there are nice people that come in and applaud loudly for the waitresses performing on the bar counter. They make me feel like a star.

Right now is one of those_ sometimes._ Me, along with some other waitresses, Dagny, Jessica, and Hayley, are performing a rendition of _Die Young _ by the infamous Kesha.I would say I'm doing fantastic, but I can't say the same for the women singing along side of me.

There's this girl, not a girl, but a woman sitting in my section watching my every move. I make sure to perform extra well after I take note of her. I like to do that for a good audience member. Then she scrambles towards her phone and takes her wide eyes off of me. Apparently whatever business there is on that slab of glass in her hand is more important than I. Angrily, I stop looking at her for the rest of the song, belting out as many high notes as possible in order to catch her attention without getting directly in her face, begging for attention.

When the song is over I hop off the counter and grab the pen and order sheets out of the servers' station cabinet, walking towards the woman in my section that is _obsessed_ with her phone.

She's sitting alone at her table and for some reason I take pleasure in that, knowing that she has no friends to spend time with during dinner.

"_Hello,_" I say in my most sickeningly sweet tone of voice, "are you ready to order or are you waiting on the rest of your party?"

She squints and seems to catch on to the sarcasm in my tone.

"No, just me. I'm not ready to order though. I was too busy watching your performance."

_Liar! _"Well, clearly not, as you were glued to your phone for half of it." I really don't know why I'm being so rude. Maybe it's that she was the only person all night that made me feel like I was living for something and then she _trampled _all over it.

"Maybe your panties wouldn't be in such a knot if you knew that I was video taping you," she says calmly.

"Excuse me, I-what?" _Dear god she better not be a talent scout or else my chances are ruined._

"Jackie Monroe," she sticks her hand out for a handshake. "Why don't you take a seat." Jackie gestures her hands towards the booth seat across from her.

Anyone who took that much interest in me deserves my attention, so I sit, not exactly worrying about Jeffery catching me sitting on the job.

I take a few seconds to inspect my admirer. Jackie has a healthy body, not skinny or overweight. She seemed to be about twenty five years old. She's dressed casually, in a brown tank top and a black cardigan with blue jeans. Her face was pretty, with light blue eyes that looked like ice and slightly heavy makeup with dark brown hair.

"So I take it that you don't exactly enjoy working here." I shake my head. "You feel underappreciated." I nod. "Ok, it's very clear that you've got pipes. What else can you do?"

"I know how to kidnap a child from a heavily secured home and sell said child to work in slave labor."

Jackie's eyes went wide. "_Oh."_

I smile and look down while clasping my thumb and fingers together in a pinch. "Scene."

"Oh _wow._ You're good. I like you. Very spunky. So you can act as well. Can you dance?" she's smiling like she hit the jackpot, and I'm hoping that she knows she has with me.

"I won my first dancing competition when I was three months old."

The brunette across from her smiled showing no teeth and took a sip of her water through the straw. "Glorious."

"I guess you could call me a triple threat, I mean-"

"Alright don't get too cocky. Doesn't look good on anyone. But knowing that you hate your job, how would you feel having a manager?"

"A manger? Are you being serious? I only applied for this job so I could work on my acting skills and have some extra cash. What you're asking me is like a dream come true. It's a yes. Yes, definitely. I can quit right now. God, you have no idea how much I can't stand it here."

"No problem…"

"Rachel Barbra Berry," I introduce myself.

"No problem, Rachel Berry. I can make everything better."


End file.
